Ambrosia of the Sea: The Red Horizon
by Stefynae
Summary: Barbossa and company enlist the help of an old friend to help free Bootstrap. BarbossaOC. Set before, during, and after both movies.
1. Norrington Remembers

Ambrosia of the Sea

Part Two: 1726—

8 Years Before the Death of Barbossa

5 Weeks After the _HMS Dauntless _Left England for Port Royal

* * *

Chapter 1

"Tell us what happened, lad."

Will Turner looked up into the stern face of Lieutenant Norrington. He shivered and pulled the blankets tighter around his frail body. Where were his clothes? The girl must have taken them. Elizabeth, that was her name. It was nearly all Will could remember. Just a name, floating at the edges of his mind, as if it was more than a name.

He gave a start as violent images flashed before his eyes, pushing the name away. Shouts, screams, running. An explosion. He flew over burning wood and passed crumpled bodies. A wall of ice hit him as he fell. Silence, black.

But he was here now. What happened?

"A hand…pulled me from the water," Will whispered as he stared out to sea. Whose hand? His silent question was echoed by one of the crew. Will shook his head. James Norrington snorted with impatience. The boy had been resting for nearly two days. He was the only survivor and it was Norrington's duty to pull the truth from him about the wreckage. The lieutenant ignored Gibbs' insistent ramblings about pirates.

Pirates—in his waters? Highly unlikely. Norrington had made sure those ruthless cretins knew the consequences of hunting in his woods. He wouldn't repeat the mistake that had cost his sister dearly.

"Lieutenant, the boy—" Gillette placed a hand on the man's shoulder. It shook lightly before James regained control of his memories. He looked to Will. The boy couldn't have been older than twelve. To be completely alone at that age…

"Let him rest. Get him some clothes." Gillette nodded to two crewmembers who led the boy below deck.

"Sir, we've been circling these waters for near two days now and haven't found a thing. The new governor is growing impatient to get to his post," said Gillette after they were alone. Norrington waved him into silence. He looked into the face of his first and best mate. Gillette could see the fury in his eyes. "James—" The lieutenant scoffed and went back to his post on the rail. As much as he tried to refuse the idea that pirates had anything to do with this incident…

Even Elizabeth had sworn to seeing the Jolly Roger flying beyond the wreckage. Norrington sighed. That Elizabeth would grow into a fine young woman one day.

"Ahoy! Storm brewing ahead!" came a cry from the crow's nest. The lieutenant looked out to the west. If this was indeed a storm, it was the oddest one he had ever seen. And yet it looked strangely familiar.

"Miss Swann! Mr. Gibbs!" Both came running to his side immediately.

"Curses," whispered Gibbs. Elizabeth stood with her eyes wide, staring at the dense fog covering the horizon. It was all the conformation Norrington needed.

"Make for that storm. Due west!" He ordered. The crew looked at him as if he had gone mad. A hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Lieutenant Norrington." It was Swann. "I must insist that we make for Port Royal at once. Elizabeth and I were supposed to arrive nearly 8 hours ago." Norrington scowled.

"James," came a voice from his other side. It was trusty Gillette—Norrington's walking conscience. He waved the governor away. "Even if it is…pirates…there's no sense in chasing them now." He continued cautiously, trying to avoid the lieutenant's temper. "The governor is right; we have a job to do. We need to see him and Elizabeth safely to Port Royal." Swann nodded from a few feet away. Norrington relaxed his grip on the rail.

"Very well," he said, thinking only of Elizabeth's safety.

After setting their course for the fort, Gillette returned to where Norrington stood staring out to sea.

"Revenge is hard work," he said, resting his arms on the rail.

"It's not revenge; it's justice," Norrington corrected.

"Of course. And if those bastards come anywhere near the fort, we'll make sure they receive adequate 'justice'." Norrington smiled.

"For high treason."

"And terrible hygiene," Gillette chimed in. Both men laughed as they sailed farther from the fog and into the light of a brilliant sunset.

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	2. The Suffering of William Turner

Ambrosia of the Sea: The Red Horizon

Chapter Two

* * *

"NORTH!"

Lieutenant Norrington heard the desperate call from his position on the bow. Port Royal could now be seen not but three leagues from where they sailed above the waters. The sky in the west behind the island was a deep red—a good sign for a sailor. Norrington turned sharply, looking beyond the ship where the call directed.

"Where's that coming from?" he asked, more to himself. He scanned the horizon quickly. "There's nothing to the north."

"Indeed, sir," replied Gillette, following his gaze.

"NORTH!" The cry came again, but this time both men realized it wasn't the voice of one of Norrington's men; it was too high-pitched.

"It's Will, sir!" cried Elizabeth as she ran up the stairs. The lieutenant took hold of her shoulders as she recovered from her run. "He's shouting and mumbling all at once. I can't understand him." She looked frightened, her eyes watering. "He's broke out into a cold sweat. And he won't let me touch him." Norrington felt a pang of jealousy strike in his stomach. She seemed genuinely concerned for the boy.

Will Turner was in a terrible state. He was suffering from hallucinations—terrible memories of the events leading him to the _Dauntless_. Elizabeth attempted to calm him with a moist cloth, but he pushed her away, still trapped in the memories.

"Why does he keep going on about the north?" asked Norrington as they stood by Turner's bunk.

"I think it's a person, sir," she said quietly, never taking her eyes off the boy. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed a bit. Norrington followed by placing his own hand on Elizabeth's small shoulder.

"You've done a great deed by watching over the boy," he said. Elizabeth smiled weakly, her mind elsewhere. "You don't have to, Elizabeth." The girl raised her eyes to the lieutenant. It seemed more of an order.

"I want to." Norrington sighed as Elizabeth pulled away to moisten the cloth once more. She laid it across Will's head gently, her fingers lingering. Norrington cursed himself for his jealousy.

"Do let us know if he has anymore information." He straightened, pulling himself up proudly, as an officer should.

"Yes sir," Elizabeth replied.

Norrington hadn't even reached the steps before Will started speaking again.

"_Curse you for bringing that back to the Caribbean!" _His voice was strange. He gripped the bed sheets, straining against the memories. _"CAP'N! It's the _Pearl_!"_ Norrington leapt back to his bedside at the mention of the _Black Pearl_. He had heard rumors about the ship and her crew—that they were cursed men. It was all nonsense in his own opinion, but he still had to be careful.

"Keep him talking," he demanded of Elizabeth, who now sat at the edge of the bed, holding Will's hand.

"Will," she cooed softly, "what happened?"

* * *

"Look's like we've got ourselves a stowaway, Cap'n."

Elinor North snorted. The voyage had gone well so far. The last thing she needed was a child hiding out aboard her ship and _touching_ things. She turned quickly, her hands on her hips, to face the culprit.

"My God," she whispered, her eyes growing wide. In front of her stood her gunner, Drada. In his hands he gripped the shoulders of Bootstrap's son. He didn't recognize her even after he stopped kicking at Drada. But he knew she had recognized him.

It had been near three years since she had first laid eyes on him in Bristol—this being after she escaped Barbossa and ended up in Port Royal. The captain of the _Pearl_ had purposely given her the wrong bearings. But Elinor knew better than to leave that ship without having them for herself. After making a mental note of thanking Barbossa the first chance she got she headed for the port. North figured she could hop the first ship out of there without any trouble. And she did—sort of.

They didn't quite believe her when she poorly explained that she had to deliver a medallion to a man's son in Britain. Without any papers showing the gold belonged to her, they accused her of stealing it. They took her to a pompous young officer who was so shocked that she was a pirate he didn't quite know what to do with her.

"That's easy—let me go," she said to the man called Norrington. She leaned on his desk, her hands still cuffed. He laughed nervously as she crossed her arms. "Listen, I promised a good man that I would deliver that medallion to his son." Her eyes spoke sincerely. "I am a woman of my word." There was an awkward pause as Norrington thought. It was not his duty to decide the fates of pirates; he was merely filling in for the regular guy.

"Very well," he said after some time. "You will be escorted to England by two of my men. They will take you to your destination so that you may fulfill your promise and then bring you promptly back here." He made it sound like a day trip. Elinor sighed—it was the best she could do. After shaking hands, Elinor was led out to the docks where she and a pair of burly sailors boarded the _Elizabethan_.

North exited the ship by herself—the men escorting her had somehow mysteriously disappeared during the voyage. Bootstrap had told her that his wife was a hat maker in Bristol. What he failed to mention was that the town seemed to be the Mecca of hat making. She searched for nearly four hours before she finally found the small shop tucked away in a remote corner of the village. It was raining, and night was falling as Elinor stepped up to the door.

By the look on Mrs. Turner's face, Elinor assumed she looked terrible. Weather and travel-beaten, North mentioned Bill's name and was admitted into his wife's company.

"I always knew the sea would take him," she said after a few good tears. Elinor sat across from Mary Turner, her elbows on her knees and her eyes down. Pirate or not, she couldn't bear to tell Bootstrap's wife how he really died. Just that he had died in battle. North wasn't even sure if Mary knew her husband was a pirate.

"Bill told me you had a son," she finally said, trying to change the subject and get on with business. Mary nodded.

"Will. After his father." Elinor looked around the room, as if that was Will's cue to step out and introduce himself. "He's in bed, as it were," Mary answered. North knew better—she always spied on her father when he had visitors late at night.

She found Will when a door creaked on the far side of the room behind Mary. She took no notice of it but North smiled to herself. There, through the crack, she glimpsed the spitting image of Bootstrap. Younger, of course, but there he was—soft eyes and all. Elinor shifted then to pull out the package she was bound to deliver.

"He wanted the boy to have this," she said as she handed the parcel to the woman across from her. Mary unfolded the cloth to reveal the medallion. She gasped, bringing her small white hand to her heart. It wasn't a notion of surprise, North thought later, but rather of fear—as if she knew what the gold would bring. "He's to keep it safe," North commanded as she moved toward the door. Mary nodded, bringing the gold piece closer to her chest. She thanked Elinor for visiting, for granting her dying husband's last wish.

She still had tears in her eyes when the captain left.

* * *

North wondered what the boy was doing all the way down in the Caribbean.

"My mother has passed on, so I've come to look for my father," he said as she questioned him in her quarters. Elinor stopped her pacing.

"Your father?" The look in her eyes made Will feel ridiculous. He nodded. "Will, lad," the captain started, setting him down on the divan, "your father's dead." She paused as the boy struggled to comprehend this harsh statement. "Didn't your mother tell you…?"

"She said he got hurt, is all," he said suddenly, sprinting from his seat. "She said there was an epic battle on the sea, and he was wounded. But he was a hero. Mother said that's why he got this!" Will pulled the medallion from his neck, where it hung on a long golden chain. North stared at it, her expression filled with horror and rage. In two steps she had crossed the room and taken hold of both Will and the gold.

"How _dare_ you bring this here?" Her voice shook with each word. "You've no idea the trouble you've started, boy. The _hell_ you've unleashed." She was scaring young Will, but it didn't matter to her. She was furious. "Curse you for bringing this back to the Caribbean! You were supposed to keep it far away from here. Why do you think your father entrusted it to you—in England?" She was on a rampage now, shaking poor Will nearly to pieces.

"I-I didn't know!" he shouted, trying to push the enraged captain away. Elinor stepped back to catch her breath. Of course he didn't know; he didn't even know his father was dead. The boy had come to look for him. Now he was alone. Seemed to Elinor that all this lying was adding up. North collected herself and sat Will back down, who had now started crying.

"Listen to me, Will, and listen good. I knew your father. He was a good man. _Was_, Will. He's gone now, and he trusted me to give that gold to you." Elinor took the piece in her hands. "This is _cursed,_ boy. Your father wanted it far away so that the men this gold affected couldn't get to it. And now you've brought it back." Will stared in horror. He grabbed the piece and tore the chain from his neck. He went over to the window to throw it to Davy Jones.

"There's no point in doing that, young William. They'll have already known by now that it's here." Will turned to see a calm captain standing behind him with her arms crossed. She looked now as if she pitied him.

"What am I supposed to do then?" he asked. And instead of breaking down, weeping for his father and now his own life, Will Turner put the chain back around his neck and awaited his commands. North laughed.

"Oh no," she said, waving her hands, "you're not joining—" There was a bang on the door just before it flew open.

"Cap'n, you'd better come take a look at this," said Plank as he held the door open for her. Elinor rolled her eyes at her first mate, but followed him out on deck. He pointed to the east with his middle finger (his pointer had been ripped off by shrapnel). On cue he slapped North's telescope in her hands.

"I can't tell," she said, straining her eyes, "there's too much…fog." She lowered the scope slowly, chills running down her spine. She whipped around to find Turner standing there, not sure of what to do with himself. The gold sparkled in the afternoon sun.

"Cap'n! CAP'N! It's the _Pearl!_"

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	3. Trying Times

Ambrosia of the Sea: The Red Horizon

Chapter Three

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"Saint's preserve us."

The fog crept up and circled around Elinor's ship like a shark around its prey. And just as prey, North stood frozen in the water, knowing her destiny but not quite wanting to accept it.

"Shall we run out the guns?" asked Drada, hopeful for a battle he only remembered in his dreams. The other crewmen looked toward their captain, waiting anxiously for their orders. Elinor ignored their looks. She raised her spyglass for a reassuring, albeit horrifying, glance.

"Damn," she whispered. In the distance was the ship she hadn't seen in years, black torn sails and all. The sight of her made Elinor nauseous; she had to steady herself on the rail after lowering her glass. The water beneath her churned black, mingling with the fog.

"Your orders, Captain," asked Plank from beside Drada. North faced her men. Young William had joined them with his tear-streaked face. The gold hung around his neck, laughing at her.

"It's not a fight they want, nor anything we can give them," she said slowly. She sighed, brushing her hair away from her face. Fingering her sword, she told her bewildered crew, "We can't stop them. No one can." She seemed to be talking to herself, convincing her heart what her mind already knew.

Drada drew his sword. "We can try!" The crew agreed with nods and grunts, pulling out their pistols and cutlasses. Will had no weapon, but he clenched his fists nonetheless.

Elinor shook her head. "No," she said firmly, "we will give them what they want. No arguing, no surprise attacks." She looked sternly at Drada, who shrugged his shoulders. North walked over to Will and removed the chain from his neck. He grabbed for it.

"That's mine!" he protested, clawing at the captain. North pushed him hard into the crew.

"You don't want to be caught with this, boy," she said, holding the coin up for all to see. "Trust me." Will's eyes formed tears, which he choked back unsuccessfully. Everyone ignored his sobs, staring with terror as the _Pearl_ glided up to the starboard side. "Damn thing's faster than I remember," Elinor said under her breath, attempting to steady her legs.

It had been three years since she had last seen the _Black Pearl_. After her excursion to England, she had landed herself a deck-hand position on the _Eve's Bounty._ It was degrading and humiliating to be demoted to such work; but she was lucky to have been hired at all, with all the stupid superstitions about women aboard ships going around. After a year and a half of honest work, the captain received a promotion and had to leave the _Bounty._ The fate of the ship was left in the first mate's hands—a drunken fool by the name of Jonas Butrin. Fighting her urge to mutiny, Elinor persuaded the crew and Butrin's commanding officer to put her in charge. Her womanly charms and deeds did the trick, and she had been a successful privateer for almost two years, avoiding the dreaded _Pearl_ the entire time.

Until now.

Elinor inhaled sharply as her eyes fell upon the _Pearl's_ crew. They looked disgustingly old and terrifyingly hungry. North's crew backed away from the rail. William brushed against the captain, wanting to grab onto her like he would his mother, but thinking better of it. He shrunk behind her and in between members of her crew.

There was an ominous stillness in the air, pressing down on Elinor as she placed her hand on the banister, standing tall and awaiting his presence.

"Not going to even try, are yeh?" came a voice from the helm. Elinor's eyes narrowed with contempt at the _Pearl's _captain. His crew sniggered, their evil presence pouring over onto the _Bounty._

"I know what you want, Barbossa," North shouted. "There's no point in fighting over something I'd be foolish to keep." She looked back at Will, who peered from around Plank.

"Aye! Smart girl!" came the reply. Barbossa limped down the stairs to face directly across from North. "I'll be taking it then," he said, extending his hand out to her. Two pairs of hands seized Elinor from behind. Pintel and Ragetti laughed as they pulled her onto the _Pearl_, using the same plank they used to board the _Bounty_ when she wasn't looking. Drada moved to follow them, drawing his sword. Pintel and Ragetti smiled, egging him on.

"Don't," Elinor commanded. Drada reluctantly returned to his position next to Plank. "If anything happens to me, you're in charge," she told her first mate as her captors lugged her over to Barbossa. Plank nodded.

"Well, well, if it isn't 'Steelwater' North, back to join us on the _Pearl,_" welcomed Barbossa, motioning for her release. Elinor met his gaze defiantly. "It's been a long time," he said, stepping closer to her.

"Not long enough," she answered, furrowing her brow. Barbossa smiled, grabbing her arm and leading her to his cabin. He nodded to Bo'sun before he shut the door, who grinned and turned away.

The captain's cabin hadn't changed much, besides looking more dark and decayed. And stale. Elinor avoided glancing at the bed.

"I want to thank you, Barbossa," she said from his dining table. The captain turned and gave her a curious glance. "For that amazingly accurate heading you gave me last time we saw each other."

Barbossa smiled. "Yeh seemed to have done well since then." He sat across from Elinor, placing a bottle of rum between them. North eyed it hungrily; she hadn't had a drink in months.

"There's something to be said for honest work," she replied, never taking her eyes off the bottle. Barbossa laughed, pushing the bottle toward her.

"Once a pirate, always a pirate," he said, watching as she indulged herself. He didn't know how she survived the sea, but here she was—a woman who had vexed him for years. A woman he never thought he'd see again.

"You always knew the way straight to a woman's heart," she said sarcastically, setting the half-empty bottle back on the table. The liquor burned down her throat, warming her whole body. Already she felt lighter. "I could have just tossed it to you," she stated after wiping her mouth on her sleeve. The captain stared into her eyes, grinning softly. Elinor's eyes widened, realizing her mistake. "You're not after the gold?"

"Oh, we're after it," Barbossa reassured her, standing. He went over and leaned into her, wanting so bad to feel her soft hair. "You were an added bonus." Elinor clenched her fists, ready to turn and hit him.

An explosion sounded in the distance. It was murder to Elinor's ears. "What?" she asked, already secretly knowing. She rushed out of the cabin, only to see the remains of her beloved _Bounty _floating in the Caribbean. The bright flames danced across the surface, eating away at her life. It was not a matter of what would happen to _her_, but her crew and ship. She cursed herself for not fighting, for not trying.

"You _bastard!_" She screamed at Barbossa, flailing at him, trying to hurt him, to make him feel her pain. He only laughed as he seized her arms. Her intense hatred for him excited Barbossa.

"I'll be taking the gold now, Elinor," he said close to her face. North spat at him, kicking until she could pull away. Bo'sun grabbed her by the hair. "You'll either hand it over nicely or we'll be searching your dead body for it," Barbossa said, losing his patience. Elinor wanted to kill him. She wanted to plunge a cutlass deep into his black heart. One father, two ships, and her dignity. What more could he take from her? She reached into her pocket, only to find the gold was no longer there.

"It's not here," she stated, not believing. She checked every pocket. "I don't have it," she told Barbossa. "It must have fallen out somewhere." _Or it was taken out,_ she thought, remembering Will's brush against her side. The captain ordered a strip search. Elinor's clothes were yanked from her body as the crew searched frantically for a coin she didn't have. North shivered in the evening air. Even her nudity couldn't distract desperate men from their prize. When they realized the coin really wasn't there, they all cried out in anger.

"You dirty whore," Barbossa spat, hitting her hard across the face. Elinor's eyes stung with tears as she grabbed her shirt. Barbossa shoved her back into his cabin before she could grab anymore clothes.

And once again, Elinor North was a captive aboard the _Pearl_.


	4. Falling

Ambrosia of the Sea: The Red Horizon

Chapter Four

* * *

"Cap'n, we've a visitor."

Barbossa squinted through the fog. Beyond the wreckage loomed an impressive galleon, flying his majesty's colors. The captain scoffed at the flag, ordering his crew to make haste. He watched carefully, taking note of how the Brits cared more for the wreck than for the ship that caused it.

Scanning the rail, he noticed a small girl at the bow, her eyes wide. She had seen the _Pearl_, yet Barbossa wasn't alarmed. He studied her as close as the fog and distance would let him. There was something about the young lass, something strong and curious. She held an object in her hand, and Barbossa felt his stomach wrench. The captain cursed himself for turning away. Somehow, though, he knew he'd see that girl again. He let the coin slip away once more, remembering instead that he had reclaimed another treasure.

Inside his cabin, Elinor searched frantically for something to clothe herself in. Barbossa entered just as she wrapped a sheet around her waist, already having thrown on her shirt.

"Did you find it?" she spurted between breaths. Crossing her arms over her thin shirt, she fixed her gaze on the captain.

Barbossa shook his head and smiled to himself. Elinor stood near the window as he pulled another bottle of rum from the cabinet. He set it on the table, then disappeared under the bed. Elinor watched with curiosity as he wriggled out a small chest.

"Sit," he commanded as he brought the box over. North obeyed, not being able to take her eyes off the captain. He didn't seem phased one bit over the coin. He almost looked…amused.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he said as he opened the trunk. Elinor peeked over the lid, fixing her eyes upon a treasure trove of brilliant green.

"Lord Almighty." She laughed to herself, plucking out an apple. It gleamed fresh in the dim light of the cabin, as the fruit of the first sin must have. She hadn't tasted the chartreuse fruit since the first time they had met. Elinor frowned at the memory while Barbossa sat and lifted his tired feet onto the table. He hadn't touched the bushel. Elinor inquired as to why.

"Lost the taste for them," he answered. The look on his face told North otherwise. She moved the trunk to the opposite side of the table. Barbossa watched her with longing as she sat on the table in front of him and took a large bite out of the apple. He moved to lick the juice from her lips, but thought otherwise and sat back in his chair.

"You always were a temptress," he said as he reached for the rum. North held out the apple for him to take. He gazed at it for a moment, before swallowing a swig of alcohol. Elinor watched him inquiringly, wondering why he refused something he once could not resist? Barbossa handed her the rum, which she drank eagerly, the apple still luminous in her hand.

"So what now?" she asked as she got up and made her way to the window. Night was falling, though the brilliant colors of a Caribbean sunset were hard to see passed the fog. Elinor took another bite of the apple, savoring the flavor. Had it really been so long?

Barbossa ignored her question, surveying her instead. She looked healthy, and cleaner than the first time they had met. She held herself well, hardened by the past years' work. Her brown eyes were lit with the same fire from so many years ago. And she stood, once again, by his window, with his two most favorite things in the world in her hands. It was a temptation he was hard pressed to give in to.

"Well?" she asked, turning to meet his gaze. It was then that Elinor noticed the yellow of his eyes. Everything about him looked as if it were decaying—his face, his clothes, his ship. Yet Elinor could sense plenty of fight still left in him. She felt herself being drawn to his presence. For years he was always in the back of her mind. In it, she had hated him. He was more evil than the devil himself. And yet her heart sympathized with him—over what, she had no idea. Perhaps it was merely curiosity, rather than sympathy. She wanted to know how a man so cruel could even sleep at night.

Barbossa cleared his throat as he stood. Elinor instinctively stepped back as he neared her. The captain refused to notice, grabbing the alcohol out of her hands. A deep hole burned through his heart every time he swallowed. He could not recall the taste of any liquid, nor remember the sense of being quenched. He only did it so his muscles would not forget, so they would be ready when the curse was lifted.

Elinor watched him closely, taking note of his pain. She did not flinch when he wrapped one arm around her and spoke.

"Now, we sail."

Elinor tightened the sheet around her waist as he pressed her close. She could smell the rum on his breath, mixed with spice and death. The hairs on her neck bristled at his touch, and a chill ran along her spine when he looked at her. Barbossa longed to be closer to her, to feel her skin and smell her hair, to taste her lips and feel alive once more. He leaned into her, reaching for her lips with his own.

"No," she said forcefully, pushing him back. Before even thinking it through, North bit the apple. After throwing the fruit onto the bed, she poured rum into her mouth and grabbed at Barbossa's jacket.

A bullet to the heart is certainly more deadly than a kiss.

Elinor needed her charm to stay alive aboard the _Pearl_—long enough to get off of the wretched ship.

Barbossa kissed her hard, trying with all his strength to relish even one ounce of her body. He put his hands all over her, desperately trying to feel something, anything. Elinor became alarmed at his efforts, sensing something was wrong when he started clawing at her.

"That's quite enough," she stated, bringing the bottle down on his head.

Glass and rum exploded over Barbossa's skull, sending him backwards but not to the ground. Elinor made for the door, but tripped over the sheet she wore. As she fell, she felt a hard kick in the back.

She fell fast through a dark tunnel, filled with rotten apple cores and the stench of dead corpses. A hand reached for her. She tried to tumble toward it, but to no avail. The hand belonged to young William Turner, who instead grabbed a glittering coin that fell with her. He placed it around his neck, a smile of revenge carved into his face.

If Elinor had had a pistol, she would have shot him.

As he disappeared, she landed into the arms of another man. It was Bootstrap. He held her close, his eyes still as warm as the day they met. She smiled at him, taking comfort in his embrace. Suddenly, he was ripped out from under her, and she fell once again. As she descended, she could see the canon he was strapped to falling far below her, dragging old Bootstrap with it.

Elinor thought she would fall forever, straight to the center of the earth and back out. Her mind raced with images of her life, spread before her as pages from a book. Her mother appeared on the edge of a bed, praying silently for her lost daughter. A shadowy figure danced in a fog, just beyond her mind's reach. And her father…

She opened her eyes to see that she was no longer falling. Elinor stood at the bow of the _Three Fates_, the warm breeze flowing through her hair. The sun was rising through a red sky. Elinor frowned at this sailor's warning.

Suddenly a man appeared by her side.

"Papa!" she shouted, embracing her father. When he didn't hug her back, Elinor let go, looking intently at his face. His eyes were filled with worry. His clothes were askew; there was blood on his shirt. The lines of defeat dug deep into his face.

"I don't understand," whispered Elinor as she checked him over for wounds. Abruptly she was pushed away. Her father turned to face two other men who had appeared. One wore a red scarf around his dreads, filled with beads and trinkets. His dark eyes where lined with kohl. He looked helplessly at Elinor.

The other man aimed a pistol right at her father's heart. He was taller, older. Elinor's eyes widened as she recognized Barbossa. Her scream was silenced by the sound of his shot. She watched her father fall, his eyes pleading. Kneeling beside him, Elinor cried angry tears over his lifeless body. An evil laugh pierced her ears. As she looked up, she saw Barbossa smiling. She jumped from the deck and ran toward him, ready to kill him with her bare hands. But before she could reach him, he vanished.

And she fell.


	5. Becoming Death

Ambrosia of the Sea

Chapter Five

* * *

"Wake up, lass!"

North opened her eyes slowly, her head pounding. There was no damp cloth, no soothing words as she awoke this time. She wasn't even placed under covers. The musty smell of the bed drifted in front of her nostrils. Inhaling deeply, Elinor focused her vision on the man standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"You won't be getting away that easily, Missy," Barbossa stated as she sat herself up.

North bit her tongue as she remembered her dream. She knew hating him wouldn't get her anywhere. The captain walked around the room, staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

"This is the last time I be taking care of yeh," he explained. "You've cost me one too many treasures." His eyes gleamed of gold for an instant, then turned bitter. "And my best rum!" Elinor jumped as he yelled.

"Oh piss on your rum," she said softly, looking down. Barbossa rushed to the bed, ready to teach her a lesson. She stared hard into his eyes, daring him to hit her again. North was accustomed to his violence now. A smile crossed the captain's face, and his eyes softened.

"Your defiance reminds me of your father's."

Elinor felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise like a rabid dog about to attack.

"How dare you," she said through gritted teeth. She reached for her pistol, but found it missing.

Barbossa's laugh chilled her to the bones. He pulled out his own pistol and handed it to her. North took it without persuasion and aimed it at his chest.

"Go on!" he coaxed. "Tear me black heart out and throw me to Davy Jones!" His eyes were crazed, the veins by his temples pulsating. He pulled back his jacket and waited.

"You're mad," Elinor said without lowering the weapon.

"Not as mad as yer dear father would be if he knew what yeh done with me in that same bed—"

A shot rang out over the sea. Followed by a shrill laugh.

Smoke rose from the barrel of Barbossa's pistol and a bullet lodged into his chest, yet he did not fall. Elinor sat frozen, unblinking, before she started to tremble. Barbossa laughed again as his body healed itself. North sank back against the headboard, letting the pistol fall onto the bed in front of her.

"That bloody curse," she said to herself, holding her hand to her heart.

"Indeed!" Barbossa agreed, replacing his weapon. He looked both satisfied and disappointed. "It took everything from us," he started, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Our senses, our dignity, our freedom." He looked out at the ocean, black as the sky it lay beneath.

"You're immortal," Elinor said as her memory caught up with her.

"No, lass," Barbossa said. He turned toward her. "We be but poor souls trapped in purgatory."

North bit her lip, trying to understand.

"You cannot die, but you're unable to enjoy life?" The captain nodded. "No feeling, what-so-ever?"

"No."

Elinor leaned closer.

"No apples?" Barbossa's pained look was all the response she needed. North got up on her hands and knees and proceeded to crawl toward him.

"No rum?" she asked, moving closer.

"Aye, no rum," he repeated, watching her with caution and curiosity. She moved till she could whisper in his ear.

"That is unfortunate."

"You've no idea," he said, wishing he could feel her breath on him. He imagined its warmth, just as he imagined her scent—strong with musk and salty like the ocean. But Barbossa inhaled deeply and smelled nothing. Not even feeling the air rush into his nose.

"Nothing," she said softly, taking his earlobe between her lips. Barbossa called upon all his old memories, imaging what this would feel like. He closed his eyes and shuddered.

Elinor made a face at the taste of his skin—halfway between a dead, rotting fish and her cook's three-day-old porridge. She bit down hard when she couldn't stand it anymore, drawing blood.

As it dripped, Barbossa reached his hand around and caught it.

Blood.

His blood. Just a liquid now, without life. He rubbed a drop between his fingers, watching as it smeared across his skin and faded. He had sensed the pressure of North's teeth, but no pain.

Elinor watched in amazement as his ear heeled itself before her. She couldn't help wiping the rest of the blood from his ear and neck, as a mother would. Barbossa's gaze was firmly set in a land she dared not enter. His hands hung limp in his lap, open as if waiting for something—a gift, or death.

"How're you to stop it?" she asked, wondering if he knew what Bootstrap had told her years ago. The captain sighed, blinking slowly.

"We must return all the cursed treasure from whence it came," he replied. He stood. "And repay the blood of all those responsible for its capture." This was news to Elinor.

"Mine as well?" she asked with a lump in her throat. Barbossa leaned over her, hands on the bed. He smiled wickedly.

"Shall we shoot you and find out?" Elinor looked at him helplessly, before quickly reminding him that she had not taken any coins from the chest or anywhere else.

"Aye," Barbossa responded, rising again and heading toward the door. "And that's why you'll make such a fine prize after the curse has been lifted," he said, straightening his hat. "Yer so…full of life." He left swiftly, slamming the door behind him.

Elinor looked at her hands and bit her lip. She knew she had no chance of escape, but after her previous experience with Barbossa she refused to be a captive ever again. It got her into far too much trouble.

When she finally exited the cabin, she was drunk beyond recognition. She stumbled out with rum bottle in hand, eyes glazed and nose bright red. Barbossa stood at the helm with Jack. The monkey hissed at her as she approached.

"I've decided something, Captain," she said. Her lips hardly moved with her slurred speech. Barbossa rolled his eyes. Elinor tapped him on the shoulder when he wouldn't look at her. "I've decided…I've deci…ded…" She stopped, bringing her hand to her chin.

Barbossa tore the bottle from her and tossed it over the railing. Elinor protested until the captain gave her a swift push.

"You've caused me far too much trouble as of late," he said. His voice was low and stern. Elinor pointed a finger at him.

"I've decided I want you to shoot me," she said. Barbossa's booming laugh reached the ears of his crewmen, who came closer for a better view.

"Why would you want that, lass?" he asked, still laughing. Elinor squinted at his dark form.

"I'd rather die than be in your company." She was suddenly very sober. Barbossa stopped laughing and walked quickly toward her, trapping her between himself and the rail. He brought his gun up to her temple and grasped her neck with his free hand.

"You tempt me, North," Barbossa said. Elinor smiled at him. It was a lazy, intoxicated smile.

"It's what I do best." Her voice was barely a whisper. Barbossa was crushing her windpipe. She tried to lean forward, but he only pressed his body harder against hers. "Do it," she asked. "Please." A single tear escaped her eye. Barbossa released his grip on her and wiped her cheek. He titled her chin up to look in her eyes.

"If death is what you wish for," he said, "then death is what you shall receive."

Elinor watched as he replaced his gun and retrieved his cutlass. She felt a searing pain as he sliced her upper arm. Blood poured from the wound.

"Fare thee well, Captain North," he said. Then Barbossa pushed her over the rail and into the ocean.

* * *

North fell into the sea, flailing wildly. Her left arm was useless from the loss of blood, her head heavy from the liquor. She was swallowing massive amounts of water as horrifying visions of death and decay crept into her mind.

As she sank, Elinor saw a massive shape rise from the depths. Her first thought was sharks. She prayed silently for her soul, as something above pulled her from her watery grave.


End file.
